propitiate Laura, she drew her breakfast back to her, and again tried to
eat it. Small and slight as they both were, there was a very sharp
contrast between her and her stepdaughter. Laura's features were all
delicately clear, and nothing could have been more definite, more
brilliant than the colour of the eyes and hair, or the whiteness--which
was a beautiful and healthy whiteness--of her skin. Whereas everything
about Mrs. Fountain was indeterminate; the features with their slight
twist to the left; the complexion, once fair, and now reddened by years
and ill-health; the hair, of a yellowish grey; the head and shoulders
with their nervous infirmity. Only the eyes still possessed some purity
of colour. Through all their timidity or wavering, they were still blue
and sweet; perhaps they alone explained why a good many
persons--including her stepdaughter--were fond of Augustina.

"What has Mrs. Denton been telling you about Mr. Helbeck?" Laura
inquired, speaking with some abruptness, after a pause.

"You wouldn't have any sympathy, Laura," said Mrs. Fountain, in some
agitation. "You see, you don't understand our Catholic principles. I wish
you did!--oh! I wish you did! But you don't. And so perhaps I'd better
not talk about it."

"It might interest me to know the facts," said Laura, in a little hard
voice. "It seems to me that I'm likely to be Mr. Helbeck's guest for a
good while."

"But you won't like it, Laura!" cried Mrs. Fountain--"and you'll
misunderstand Alan. Your poor dear father always misunderstood him."
(Laura made a restless movement.) "It is not because we think we can save
our souls by such things--of course not!--that's the way you Protestants